


We

by kisssanitygoodbye, moodymarshmallow



Series: Like Attracts Like [4]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisssanitygoodbye/pseuds/kisssanitygoodbye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems that Fabian's finery was made for Theron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We

**Author's Note:**

> Written by kisssanitygoodbye

He still looks good in my finery, like he did the first night he spent at the estate. But something has changed, because, just yesterday, I caught myself referring to the piece of clothing as  _his_.

Theron noticed it too, and I didn’t miss the look he gave me. Surprised, confused, like he wasn’t quite sure whether he’d heard me right, but there was a smile too, one of the little ones, the ones he gives me right after waking up, or throws at me across a room full of people without any of them noticing - the ones he’s reserved only for me.

It’s on his lips now too, as he’s walking down the stairs and sees me sitting in front of the fireplace.

He makes his way towards me, bare feet silent on the carpet, and joins me on the floor, leaning his back against mine. “Why are we sitting here?”

“We’re a little cold,” I say, smiling even though he can’t see it.

“Maybe a shirt would help.” He laughs, and it makes my body shake too, but I just press myself more firmly against him instead of leaning away. It’s funny. He’s short - tiny, even - compared to me. His hands are so small that I can make them disappear between mine, but right now,  _he_ ’s the one supporting  _me_.

“Oh, you know me. I can’t pass up an opportunity to show off.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “And you’re one to talk, Mister Trousers-Are-Overrated. My finery isn’t  _that_  big on you, you know. You’ll scar Sandal for life, walking around like this.”

“I thought it was mine.” I see him drop his hand out of the corner of my eye, and as soon as he’s pressed it against the floor I cover it with my own. “The shirt, I mean.”

“Hmm.”

“Ours?”

I laugh, because I’ve never been a  _We_ before, and it feels amazing. “Ours.”


End file.
